


Trick

by epkitty



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Sex Pollen, Sexual Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-01
Updated: 2011-03-01
Packaged: 2017-10-16 00:45:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/166637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epkitty/pseuds/epkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poison Ivy is up to her old tricks again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trick

**Author's Note:**

> This is a tough one. Which incarnation of the Batman fandom does this story represent? My answer is pretty much all of them. Certainly I picture Christian Bale and Gary Oldman as my leads, and there are other references to the recent movies. But the batmobile in my head is Burton’s batmobile, and Poison Ivy will always be the shapely Poison Ivy of the animated Batman adventures that I watched after school as a kid.

She was beautiful, with long red hair flowing down her lithe back.

Gordon pointed his gun at the ground. There was no way to get a good shot into the close-quartered fight at the other end of the greenhouse.

Every time Batman attacked, she leapt away and threw something else at him. Roots surged like tentacles from the ground, ensnaring Batman’s ankles at every step.

The flames that filled the place grew higher and Gordon lifted an arm to shield his face from the heat as he crept closer with slow, careful steps. He couldn’t imagine what was left to burn, to entice the flames so. The place was made of glass and metal and there was hardly any vegetation left … and then he saw the barrels of fertilizer against the far wall. “Batman!”

Poison Ivy was screaming her head off, completely mad. She screamed and screamed as though it was she who burned and not the plants.

The ground rippled under Gordon’s feet, and a vine burst out, wrapping up his leg, the little stingers cutting through the black pants to pierce his skin.

Growling in pain and anger, Gordon emptied an entire clip into the ground until the vine slackened and he wrenched himself loose to run between the flames toward the fight that was swiftly degenerating into something more like a schoolyard scrap, though a deadly one.

One foot grounded by a tough, thorny root, Batman swung his heavy fist, but Ivy was too far out of reach. She screamed and threw a broken beaker from the worktable.

Batman blocked it with his cape and then threw a Batarang out from under cover of it.

Caught off guard, it drove into Ivy’s shoulder and she howled as the blood ran thick and viscous over her pale skin and green costume. The metal bat thrust obscenely from her shoulder and all three of them stared at it for a moment, frozen. Then Ivy reached across her breasts to grab the weapon and jerk it out. She howled and flung it uselessly at the dark figure before her.

With his cape up in defense, Batman didn’t see Ivy fall to her knees to open a battered toolbox.

“Batman! Look out!” Gordon called, but as he ran forward, another root sprung out of the ground. His forward momentum sent Gordon to the ground with a thump, the breath knocked out of him as his reloaded gun skittered forward over the rocky ground.

He looked up in time to see Ivy holding the Scarecrow’s glove weapon. She smiled. “Hey, Batman! Trick or treat.” She found the button and sprayed something vividly pink into Batman’s cowled face.

Batman coughed and wiped one black glove over his mouth and spit out a pink-tinged gob of saliva.

Ivy growled and ran off through the flames, screaming.

Gordon pulled at the roots winding up around his legs, finally realizing what a very dangerous position he had gotten himself into. He struggled in vain until Batman appeared above him.

A knife appeared in the black-gloved hand and Gordon was free in seconds.

Batman strained to help Gordon to his feet, and the Commissioner realized whatever Ivy had sprayed was already taking effect.

They slung their arms around one another and the glass began to explode from the heat, raining down on them as they fled into the dark night.

Sirens blared in the distance, but they wouldn’t be soon enough.

The Batmobile stood idling and the hatch slid open when Batman touched a button at his wrist.

By that point, Gordon had to maneuver the Batman into the car, because he couldn’t have gotten himself in. They fell together into the seats, legs a’tangle. The hatch closed over them and the displays lit up in shades of white and orange.

That’s when the flames reached the fertilizer, for an explosion rocked the car and sent flaming debris into the surrounding woodland.

“Home,” Batman commanded, but his eyes were losing focus, and he began trembling.

The car shot forward, bouncing over the rubble and then onto the smooth highway.

“Batman?” Gordon said, his hands on Kevlar shoulder pads.

“Antidote,” Batman said, reaching for a compartment on his belt. He feebly guided Gordon’s hands to the right one, and the Commissioner pulled out a tiny Epi-pen. Batman shifted his legs, pointing out a weak spot in his uniform on the inner thigh.

Gordon jabbed in the needle as hard as he could to be sure it penetrated the costume, and pressed the trigger.

They waited then, the car roaring around them as it hurdled through the streets on the outskirts of Gotham. Gordon didn’t even know which way they were heading, so intent was he on the man’s breathing.

But the breaths came no easier, and Gordon watched the gloved hands clench and unclench and then reach for one another, as though needing to hold something.

“Batman? What’s wrong?”

“The tox-toxin’s diff’rent. Stronger.”

“Ivy’s… uh…”

“Pollen,” Batman confirmed. He tried to scratch up under his cowl. “Hot…”

Gordon swallowed hard. He’d seen the effects of Ivy’s usual poison; if this was stronger…

“Jim,” the man sobbed, “help me…”

The car still roared around them and the displays told them everything they needed to know about what was outside, but Gordon had to deal with what was inside, and he didn’t know how to do that. “All right,” he soothed, “just concentrate on breathing—”

“No! S’too hot…”

Batman continued to claw up under his cowl until he could pull the rubbery thing off. Gordon watched him throw it down, and he stared into the darkness at the empty eye sockets of the slackened mask.

“Jim, please.”

Gordon closed his eyes and breathed deep. Then, he forced himself to look up and found – with a sigh of relief – that it was too dark to make out anything beyond a young face with fragile features that might have been familiar without the rictus of pain that shaped them.

“Please,” the young man begged.

Gordon took a few steadying breaths and then took the Batman’s hand in his own. He fumbled with the fastenings until the glove came off. He repeated the task with the other hand and then let the Batman fuss and fumble with the guard around his crotch, keening high in his throat in desperation.

Gordon reached over to help, letting the strong hands guide his.

Piece by piece, the uniform came away, falling into the dark recesses of the Batmobile.

Batman was only nonsensical now, pleading and crying until Gordon huffed one last brave breath and fisted the rampant erection.

“Oh God yes!” Then, “I’m sorry, Jim, I’m sorry… please touch me, I’m sorry…”

“Shh, shhhh…” Gordon grabbed one strong, sweating hand and continued his attentions lower down. “It’s all right, nothing to be sorry for, just let go now.”

Gordon tried not to think.

He tried not to think about how his wife had left him. He tried not to think about how long it had been since he’d touched someone like this. He tried not to think about the reaction stirring in his pants as he gripped the man’s cock in long, steady strokes.

Gordon tried not to think.

The car roared through the streets and the young man in his seat writhed and whined. He pumped his hips and squeezed Gordon’s hand in a vice-like grip.

In the dim orange lighting from the instrument panel, Gordon watched the sweat poor from the man’s body. He watched the taut muscles and the face strained by pain and pleasure.

He watched, and the more he touched, the more he wanted what he touched, until the man in his grip shrieked and pumped hard into his fist, coming all over the console.

They both panted in the darkness.

Finally, Gordon remembered to remove his hand. “Is it better?”

The man nodded. With his features relaxed, he seemed more familiar, but Gordon still couldn’t put a name to him.

“If it’s like the previous batches, the cycle will repeat,” Gordon warned.

“Until an antidote is made for the current dose,” the man agreed. Then, “Ah!”

“What?”

“It’s starting again.”

“So soon?”

The man nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“We know how this works,” Gordon soothed, petted his sweat-drenched arm. “We’ve seen the effects.”

“I never thought I… I don’t know what happened. I should have been prepared.”

Gordon actually smiled. “You’re only human, after all.”

The man smirked, and in that one expression, recognition lit Gordon’s eyes. “Yeah, well,” Bruce Wayne said. “I can make the antidote at the Batcave, but… ugh, we won’t get there for another five minutes. Do you think… you can give me a hand?”

Gordon nodded. “We’ve got it sorted it out.”

“Some Halloween,” Bruce said with a laugh.

“Yeah.”

The Batmobile burned over the asphalt into the smog of the city, toward the mansion on the hill.

= = = = =

The End


End file.
